Empty Void
by Adder McBannon
Summary: Ethan Pham already knew that war brings destruction, but video games and novels do nothing to prepare him for the draft. The dragon discovers that war is much, much worse than even he believed- destroying lives, culture, minds, and ultimately the future.
1. Prologue: Remnants

Prologue

Remnants

**May 16, 1784 **

**Day 2,732- Corneria City, Corneria_**

"Lies," a scratchy, croaky voice.

Blue skies laced the heavens above, the massive expanse broken up with puffy, white clouds. Solar gleamed radiantly, casting a brilliant glow across the sky.

"All…lies."

A single gray particle fluttered in the breeze, looping and swirling through the air.

"Hhhhh…huhhhhh…All lip service…"

A few more dots danced through the sky, freckling the heavens.

"There's nothing now… There's nothing…nothing left…"

Multitudes began to fall now, the sky darkening.

"Nothing, Alex."

The world faded to shades of gray, the bright skies choked to deathly shades of gray by the falling ash. A hostile whipped through the streets, sometimes whispering darkly, other times howling in outrage. Tattered shreds of paper were kicked up, flapping in the fickle breeze. A single piece plastered against a wall, pinned against it, and slid down like a cowering, cornered child. Another slipped through a nearby gaping hole, black as abyss.

Ethan stared blankly forward, not a hint of feeling in his hazel pools. He was a dragon- half vulpine, half serpent. His black hair was messy and cactus-like, his green fur ruffled and unkempt where it showed from his torn bodysuit. An AKS-74u compact assault rifle and a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun were clamped to a weapons rack mounted on his back. His cracked helmet laid discarded beside where he sat, on the charred, bent skeleton of a hovercar. His sliver-like, antenna-esque ears quirked up as a slight flapping sound tore him from his stupor. He gazed heavenward, where a slip of paper floated high in the sky…higher…higher…higher still before the wind went dead and it plummeted straight down into the crackling flames in front of him. He inhaled and exhaled deeply through his slit-like nostrils, taking a long look at his surroundings.

The skyscrapers, once brilliant, sterile, were now blotted with black gashes and left as rickety husks, shadows of their former grandeur. The streets were lined with blackened bits of papers, burnt-out cars, trucks and buses and were strewn with bodies. Some laid on their backs, their mouths still agape in an eternal death scream of shock and awe. Others fell charred, still smoking with their blackened skulls, eyes turned to jelly, and tongues blistered.

Some weren't even military.

A distant office building suddenly gave away and crumbled into the ground from whence it was erected, scattering a billowing cloud of dust outwards. Ethan leaned slightly to the side as the incoming plume buffeted him. He half-closed his eyes, coughing and hacking phlegm into his fist as he was caked in dust and small bits of debris. The dragon proceeded to wipe his hand on his sleeve but paused, shook his head, and let his hand fall.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Nothing for me…," he looked down, "or for you, Alex."

The dragon's eyes jerkily gazed downwards. In his hands, cradled in his arms was a golden eagle, his feathers still gleaming beacon-like in the fall of ash. Deep gashes were cut into his body, and his piercing eyes stared hollowly, mortally forwards. His arm was bent the other way, his lower beak missing. His chest did not rise nor fall.

Ethan sighed once more, looking upwards with glazed eyes. The hazy energy trail leading down the center of the city was still visible.

From the Cornerians' own cannon.

Solar freed the skies from the suffocating ash, rays of light beaming downwards. One column basked him in the light, his light green fur shedding through the layer of ash and dust.

"Noooooo!" the dragon suddenly cried upwards at the light, snapping to his feet and letting the eagle slump to the ground. "Nooooo! Go away! Leave me alone! _I hate you_!"

His chest heaved erratically as the I-hate-you's echoed resoundingly, resolutely through the empty streets, looking each way as they assaulted him from all around, his eyes jerking frenziedly. His lip quivered as he fell to his knees. He shivered, his breath coming out in quick wisps and his arms and long, prehensile tail wrapped around his chest as he slowly bowed down to the pavement, sobbing as his tears streaked freely down his face.

The I-hate-you's still rang.

"I know," Ethan sniffed quietly, still shaking. "I know." After the tears finally ran dry, he pounded a light fist into the sticky tarmac and pushed himself back up into a kneeling position. "There's nothing left… There's no remnant… There's…nothing left for any of us…"

He removed the AKS-74u from his back, holding it gingerly for a few…seconds? Minutes? Hours? He didn't know. He still clung onto it for dear life.

And then popped a single bullet into the waiting chamber.

"Nothing left for me."

_Neurotoxic Productions Presents_

_A Novel by Adder McBannon_

_Edited by King of the Rookies/Deadeye_

**_Empty Void_**

[Main Theme- Mad World by Gary Jules]

* * *

Author's Notes- Hi there. Adder McBannon here once more. You're probably wondering- what happened to _Rise of the Echelon_? Or…maybe not, since I have doubts that many of you even read _Contact_ or finished reading it to begin with.

This story, _Empty Void_, is something that I've been wanting to work on. If you're looking for Fox McCloud, Krystal, and the like… you won't find them here. This novel actually takes place six-hundred years before the events of _Contact_, so they will not be making an appearance. I will be using the names of the Lylat System's planets, but that's all the Star Fox references you'll find. If you enjoy reading highly original work, I plead that you give this novel a chance. If you were seeking Star Fox fiction…look elsewhere.

Oh, and a little other tidbit which I _completely_ forgot about. In this story, the Lylatians are much, much more advanced than humans in our modern era, hence their use of weapons manufactured here in 1974 and 1950 during a year when American just finished their Revolutionary War. My gratitude goes to chaos_Leader for relating this to me.

As always, I encourage readers to offer honest-to-goodness, advanced critique. A small "Good job" is alright because I at least know who's reading this, but constructive criticism is what I seek. Thank you kindly. ~Adder McBannon


	2. Chapter 1: Rewind

"_We must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex."~ Dwight D. Eisenhower_

Chapter 1

Rewind

**Seven-and-a-half years earlier…**

**November 11, 1776**

**Culver Lake, Corneria_**

Ethan had apparently set the alarm a little too loud. Jazz music blasted into his ears, and he jumped with a surprised "Graah!". He reached out with a green-furred finger and fumbled against the top of the digital clock for the shutoff button. As the saxophones began to escalade their ear-splitting din, the dragon pounded his fist on the left side of the clock, mashing all of the buttons and finally bringing an end to the annoying uproar. Groaning lightly, Ethan blinked rapidly, his eyes glazing as a strange, icy lens formed over them. He stared with half-closed eyes at the glaring, crimson numbers- 5:50.

_Ugh, why the hell did I even turn it on?_ he thought as he rolled away from the clock and shut his eyes, holding his stuffed fox and cougar closer to him with a pleasant purr. _It's Sunday, dammit!_ _Ah…well…I'll just sleep until seven, seven-thirty… Yeah…that sounds good…_

* * *

The green-furred dragon slowly opened his eyes again with a contented smile, sighing lightly as he shifted to a sitting position against the bedpost. He looked at the digital clock once more.

9:03.

_Whoops,_ he blinked at the display, shrugging slightly. _Ah, well. It's Sunday. No harm done._

Ethan slid out of bed, delicately propping Tallon and Felicia on the pillows and setting the blanket back into place. He proceeded to crack his neck, extracting a string of pops. Moving on, he did the same to his back, knuckles, wrists, elbows, toes, and upon opening his mouth wide, his jaw as well. Sighing lightly, he looked down and blinked. The bed sheet had actually come undone and had retracted up over the comforter, and he tugged it back down. After a few seconds, it snapped back up. Frowning, he tugged it down again with a light "Mreh!" It popped up again. The dragon growled and simply head into the restroom. After using the toilet and washing his hands, he looked up to see the mirror.

His fur and hair were extremely messy. The back of his jet-black hair stuck out in various directions, and his green fur was all ruffled up where it stuck out from his shirt and boxers.

_Great, now Mom's gonna complain about it again…,_ he sighed.

Ethan flexed his fingers and curled his hand into a fist. A thick sheet of ice caked over his hand, quickly spreading up his arm, over his shirt and boxers, and over his body. Now enveloped in a sort of ice armor, he hummed to himself as he waited for a few seconds, and then he absorbed the ice back into his body. Glancing back at the mirror, he nodded to himself now that his fur and hair were pressed into place and looked presentable. _Well…mostly presentable_, he bobbed his head from side to side. _Whatever._

Flicking his shirt off onto one of the clothing pins on the wall; he slid the closet open and shifted his jaw as he looked up and down the stacks of clothes. Shrugging, he grabbed the closest articles- a black-and-grey striped long-sleeved shirt and a pair of tan cargo pants, and auspiciously, his favorite ones. Satisfied, he headed out the door. The green-furred dragon paused for a moment with a raised finger, backpedaled to his nightstand, retrieved his wallet, and proceeded downstairs.

He jump down to the landing at the last five steps and landed in a quiet crouch, repeating the process for the last flight.

"Good morning, son," a white-furred vulpine greeted in a sleep-roughened voice in a slight South Fichinese (Vietnamese) accent, looking up from the newspaper at the dinner table.

"Morning, Dad," Ethan greeted in turn in a deep, low voice, swinging the fridge open and snatching the yogurt tub out. Forming a frozen spoon in his hand, he poured some onto a small plate. "Is mom out jogging?"

"Not on the tea saucer…," Dad sighed. Ethan looked down and noticed that it wasn't exactly a small plate he was pouring his yogurt into.

"It's…kinda already…," the dragon smiled uneasily.

"Never mind…"

"So…is mom out jogging?" Ethan asked quietly.

"Huh?" the vulpine looked at him with an incredulous voice.

"Is mom out jogging?" the hybrid repeated, perhaps a little too loud.

"Yeah."

Ethan shifted his jaw uncomfortably, seating himself next to the arctic fox and instantly going for the comic section. _No use going through the other stuff,_ he thought. _Never any good news anyways. Healthcare debate this, recession that. Pfft…what recession…? Still a bunch of people eating twenty, thirty-dollar meals!_

Finishing the comics and yogurt, he headed back upstairs without another word, skipping stairs as he headed to his playroom. He plopped into his favorite chair and slipped a metal cuff-like device onto his left forearm. Switching it on, a holographic screen appeared before him, prompting for a password as a holo-keyboard popped up at his waist. Punching in the necessary letters and numbers, the floating square now displayed a home screen. The holocomputer was a beautiful thing, really. Drawing power from nerve impulses coursing through his body, it utilized a holographic screen and keyboard that simulated sensory impulses to reproduce the same feeling of actually typing on a physical keyboard. It even simulated the small stubs over the 'F' and 'J' keys. Tapping the SimTek Word Processor icon, the screen now displayed a blank, white rectangle with tool bars flanking its sides. Tapping on the task pane, he brought up "Rise of the ". Moments later, his great work- totaling at three-hundred-ninety-three pages- popped up. Flicking his finger up to scroll all the way to the last page, he reread where he left off and set to work on his beloved. The world around him faded to obscurity as the minutes ticked by, a new page coming along quite nicely.

"_Yo," the Lylatian suddenly called to Harrison, causing him to sigh and hang his head. "You look like you're ready to go to back to war or something."_

"_So it seems," the gray-scaled Devonian said curtly._

"_So what's with the crowbar?" the annoying man continued. "You're definitely paying quite a bit of attention to it."_

"_Fine, I'll tell you," Harrison looked up to meet his eyes, causing the Lylatian to flinch. "The crowbar, in my opinion, is the ideal hand-to-hand weapon. Good reach, lightweight, strong and sturdy. This particular one has a titanium construction, making it easy to be use as a bludgeoning weapon. Then there are the curved and jagged ends," he indicated both of them, "which can be easily used to penetrate even through the skull. A skilled hand could even make a quick jab into the optical cavity into the brain case, twist, withdraw cleanly, and move on. With good control and coordination, you could also use it to control the enemy, perhaps even to a greater degree than the Spetsnaz throwing shovel in some cases. And that's just as a weapon- the crowbar can always perform tasks that it was originally intended for. You can pry open doors, boxes, window shutters, and the like. You can shift heavy objects with ease."_

Ethan didn't even notice as a green-scaled viper dressed in a blue tank top and matching shorts slowly stepped into his doorway, shaking her head. "Where's my 'Good morning'?" she flung her arms open, a smile playing across her lips.

The dragon snapped his head up, tearing himself from the narrative and blinking a few times. "Oh, hey, Mom," Ethan said in his tinny voice as he resumed typing. "How was your jog?"

"_His logic is-_

"Gooood," the serpent answered. "Saw some floaters."

"That's nice," Ethan nodded emptily, his concentration slipping.

_-sound," the other Devonian nodded._

"…_I'm sorry I asked," the Lylatian slowly resumed his discussion with the female insect humanoid. Harrison could only-_

"What, is that all I get?" Mom flung her arms out in mock disappointment. _Half-mocked,_ Ethan thought to himself, slightly irritated as he closed the screen with a sideways push and half-heartedly rose up, hugged, and kissed her. He suddenly recoiled, eyes wide and hissing in pain.

"Hot! Hot! Hot!" Wincing, the dragon sheathed himself in ice armor, exhaling as the comforting coolness swept over him.

"Oh, sorry!" the serpent smiled uneasily, apologetically. "I forgot about that!"

Ethan stared back at her incredulously, "You 'forgot' that your only son- your _eighteen-year-old_ son- hates heat with a vengeance? Really?"

The viper's smile faded, replaced with a grim expression. "Let's try that again," she spoke, a light hiss underscoring her tone. "Sorry. I forgot about that."

"It's…okay…," the dragon spoke, his heart feeling somewhat weighted in his breast.

"Better," Mom huffed, slipping away for her room.

Ethan still stood there, exhaling a sharp sigh through his nostrils and running a hand down over his face. His ice armor's edges grew rounded and dull before he absorbed it back into his skin, an aching pang tugging at his breast. The weight was gone in an instant, and he found himself typing at the holocomputer again.

_-smile._

_The truck came to a sudden, jarring halt, causing Harrison to reflexively slam his feet -silently slam his feet- into the truck bed. The vehicle rumbled slightly as the Lylatian driver navigated off of the-_

Ethan snapped back into reality as the studded, rapid beeps of the phone sounded off. He glanced up to the clock on a nearby shelf for a split second- 10:00. _Just in time,_ the dragon curved his dry lips into a smile as he quickly shoved the screen closed and sprang to his feet, dashing for the phone in the next room and snatching it from its base.

"Hi, Alex!" Ethan greeted with a friendly, warm tone.

"Hey!" a voice slightly higher than the dragon's replied, just a sliver of Occidental Fichinese (Indian) tugging at his tone. "You knew, huh?"

"Mreh, I know you too well," the dragon chuckled, his serpentine tail flicking lightly. "How're you?"

"Good, good," Alex replied. "Just, y'know, recovering from that bit of bronchitis."

"So I take it you didn't go to school that much last week?" Ethan inquired.

"Not at all, actually. Ugh, it was really, really horrible. On the plus side, though, I at least got to play Warcry a bit after it started to lessen. I think I'm…level twenty-five now? No, twenty-four, twenty-four. Just one more level and I'll be able to upgrade the ballistics for my Remington 700…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know," Ethan rolled his eyes. "We all know you're the sneaky, sniping type-"

"-And you're the in-your-face, knife-in-the-back, rushing type," his friend snickered on the other side.

"Yep! Well, it's good to hear you're almost all better now. Must've sucked like hell."

"You have _no_ idea," Alex sighed. "I have a ton of makeup work to do…"

"Sorry to hear that," Ethan bit his lip. "Hey, uh, you think we can maybe get together today?"

"Yeah, sure! Um…actually…"

Ethan's heart fell in anticipation of the words to follow, his ears drooping lightly and his tail-tip no longer whipping.

"I have some work to do," Alex continued. "It's not _too_ much, so I think I can get it done by…one? We can see each other then."

"Great!" the green-furred hybrid smiled wide, his ears perking back up and his spirits soaring. "Can't wait! So, my house or-"

"Who has Warcry?" Alex implied.

"Yeahhhhh," Ethan chuckled along with his friend. "Your house, then. Um…can you hold on? I'm gonna check with my parents."

The dragon wheeled around to find his father in the doorway, an eyebrow raised, lips pursed, and his fingers tapping at his crossed arms. "Alex again?" he asked.

"Alex again," the dragon nodded, scratching the back of his head and averting his gaze.

"One o'clock?"

"One o'clock."

The white-furred vulpine looked down for a moment and sighed. Looking up, he said, "Alright. Just go ask Mom first."

"Thank you," Ethan smiled, reining in the urge to sigh in relief as he slipped past his father towards his parents' bedroom and to the bathroom, where the door was closed at the moment. He could hear the shower running. Knocking, he asked, "Hey, Mom? Alex called. I was wondering, uh, can I head over there at one?"

"What?" her reply came, muffled.

"_Can I head over to Alex's at one_?" the green-furred dragon repeated, louder this time.

"Sure, sure."

"Yes…," Ethan whispered quietly. "_What time should I come back by_?"

"Never come back!" Mom answered jokingly.

He rolled his eyes, "Five. Got it."

Ethan dashed back to his room, plopped himself in his chair, and started typing again as his father stood in the doorway. "Ethan."

The dragon looked up, gingerly pushing the screen aside. "Yes?"

"You can play over there, but on two conditions."

His smile began to fade as he nodded, "Okay, what is it?"

"Number one- you'll practice piano before you go, preferably right now," Dad began. "No shortcuts, no nonsense. I want an honest forty-five minutes."

"Okay, okay," Ethan bobbed his head in affirmation.

"Number two- once you get back, I want you to get ready for school tomorrow. I want you to study on any tests you have this week, and I _do_ _not_ want you to touch your video games or type your story or go to any websites or anything. Studying only. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," the dragon nodded once more, quickly saving his work and switching his holocomputer off and swinging back downstairs to the Samick baby grand piano located in a large alcove just before the dining area. _Hm…maybe I'll just practice for thirty-five and then clean the pool for a few minutes…_

_* * *_

**A few hours later…**

Flying was quite common, even for a person on their own abilities. It was merely another more efficient way to commute for avians, bats certain bugs, and other winged Lylatians; quite a few were visible in the distance taking to the skies. What was _not_ 'quite common' was how this particular dragon went around doing it. Ethan stepped into the middle of the driveway to give himself some clearance before propelling himself skywards by shooting out an icy pillar underneath him. As he sailed upwards, icy wings easily three times as long as he was wide formed on his back. With a mighty wingbeat, he was shooting skywards. Snapping them open, he soared through the air for the quick flight to Alex's. In the few seconds that it would take him to get there, he smiled and sighed happily. There were few things as comparable to him as the freedom of flight and the uplift in spirit that entailed it, the liberation of being unchained from the earth to soar among the clouds.

Only moments later, he glided to a soft touchdown, landing in a trot as he absorbed the ice. He had attracted the stares of a few passersby as he did so, but he simply just rolled his eyes and skipped stairs up to his friend's front door. No sooner than he knocked than did light growling and scampering feet become audible on the other side.

"Rusty, ah!" a muffled cautionary command sounded beyond the door.

With a turn of the lock and the opening of the door, Ethan was face-to-face with Alex, a golden eagle with brown eyes and a similar stature to the dragon- thin with a hint of muscle. At his feet was a robotic hound the color of a golden brown. It was heavily artificial, its face made up of a single lens and its body heavily segmented.

"Hello, Rusty!" Ethan grinned, scratching the hound at the connective joint between the head and neck, causing it to wag its tail. He looked up at his friend and grinned "…Oh, hi to you too, Alex. You know I wouldn't forget about you, right?"

"Very funny," the brown-furred avian shook his head. "Good to see you again. Been a while, hasn't it?"

"If you can call three weeks 'a while'," Ethan chuckled sharply through his nostrils, entering the house, slipping out of his shoes without untying them, and closing the door behind him. "Both your parents working?"

"Nah, they have the day off," Alex replied as they headed to the living room. "They're just out running some errands."

"Ah, I see," the dragon nodded. "So. VR?"

"VR," Alex smirked.

The pair made the short walk to the living room and dining area, where a large, black sphere laid to the side of the room. Coming with it were two sets of wraparound helmets, gloves, belts, and leg clamps; each served to translate real-world movements to the virtual reality game and vice-versa. Ethan slipped the helmet over his head, making sure it was relatively comfortable before donning the rest in turn.

"All ready?" the avian asked, his finger just above the power button on the console.

"All ready," the green-furred dragon nodded

With that, Alex started up the system and the two spread out far enough to prevent from hitting each other or the furniture around them during play. Their gaming wear glowed a dim blue as they lifted a foot off the ground and were suspended in place. The world around them faded away, as did the gaming wear.

"Playstation V," a heavily digitized voice spoke, the same words popping up against a white background in crisp, black letters. This blackened out to reveal the main menu for Warcry, which depicted a three-dimensional photo of an urban combat scene that gradually changed to various environments as time passed. Ethan and Alex were now "dressed" in a standard officer's uniform. A segmented loading bar popped up reading "Identifying Player Profiles…".

"Welcome back Alex and Ethan," a gruff voice greeted them. A small menu in digitized, blocky letters popped up in front of them.

Campaign

Co-Op

Multiplayer

Ethan beat his friend to the punch in tapping the last option, which in turn led to a new menu.

Find Online Game

Play LAN

Play Split-Screen

Armory

Options

Ethan tapped the first option before his friend again, causing the avian to shake his head at him. Two identical menus confronted them as an arctic firefight scene enveloped them.

Skirmish

Warzone

Every Man For Himself

Unconventional Warfare

"And this is where we must part," Alex frowned.

"Yeah," Ethan nodded. "Well, Alex, I wish you luck with your matches. Good hunting."

"Same to you," the avian returned as he highlighted Warzone and disappeared.

The dragon turned back and selected the same option as a mountainous firefight blurred into view. A game lobby consisting of a "Rules of Engagement" list that displayed the match's settings, a map display, and a player roster popped up. The former two were occupied with segmented loading bars with the words "Finding Game" above them while the latter was empty except for his name, "Cpl. Pham". Ethan sighed, partially from the embarrassment of his lower rank than his sergeant friend that was the result of not being able to play the VR game on his own system.

As the player slots began to fill out, Ethan's weapon loadout appeared before him. Warcry possessed an interesting leveling system- instead of naturally acquiring weapons and equipment as one leveled up in the game through earning experience points, one already had access to all available weaponry, equipment, and training from the armory. This allowed players to be able to choose their own gear and play style from the start. The catch was that one could only unlock five items per level. Some preferred to purchase a wide variety of weaponry so as to be ready for any combat situation, while others wished to obtain a few weapons and upgrade them with the plethora of attachments or modifications. Also available in the armory was the ability to train oneself in various aspects of combat, from increasing one's alertness to leadership to speed-loading to hacking to gaining the ability to use various kill-streak rewards (which were also very much plentiful). _No small wonder why this game became a candidate for game of the year,_ the dragon thought to himself as he brought up his virtual gear.

His secondary weapon consisted of an AKS-74 assault rifle. He loved how the single-minded, consummate design of the iconic AK-47 was made a deadly close-quarters combat weapon by simply changing the cartridge from a 7.62 armor-piercing round to the 5.45 anti-personnel round. While having a smaller bore and lower penetration than its older cousin, the 5.45 was more likely to kick and spin after it impacted into a body, producing more internal damage and therefore making it a highly effective CQB weapon- something Ethan found necessary for his play style. When combined with the AK series' famous, rugged durability and bare-minimum requirement of maintenance, the AKS-74 was a highly efficient and highly lethal close-quarters weapon. Ethan's particular weapon was only a base model, bereft of any equipment rails, optics, or synthetic grips.

The dragon preferred versatility even though he limited himself to only a few weapons. He had purchased a wealth of attachments and modifications for his weapon, including several different optics and the ability to compact the rifle. Glancing at the lobby, he found that the roster was quickly filling out to, he estimated, over fifty players. His eyes quickly shifted to the Rules of Engagement and Map listings. The game was a simple team deathmatch set for twenty-thousand points at ten points per kill and a fifteen-minute time limit. Though it may sound ridiculous at first glance, the fact that Warzone battle allowed up to two-hundred combatants total made up for that. He then shifted his gaze to the map. A smirk grew across his muzzle as the words "Swamp- Nighttime" were displayed, tailed underneath with a simple, overhead map. This called for surprise close-encounters- his specialty. Ethan quickly lifted up his light AKS-74, causing a variety of brackets to pop up from various points on the assault rifle that listed attachments that could be swapped in. He first selected the "_Krinkov_" modification, Zonessian (Russian) for "Short". His weapon's barrel became much shorter with the end shaped like a bugle, while the weapon's steel-backed wooden buttstock was replaced with a foldable, T-shaped, solid steel stock. This effectively turned it into an AKS-74u compact assault rifle, which granted the dragon increased mobility and CQB effectiveness at the cost of some range. _Not like that'll be necessary anyways,_ he thought to himself. He also tipped the barrel with a suppressor to reduce the volume of the weapon's report and reduce its muzzle flash. For a finishing touch, he tipped the weapon with reflector sights, which allowed him to easily aim at targets even in dim lighting without reliance on electronics.

Now it was time for his true pride and joy.

His primary weapon was a Remington Model 870MCS (Modular Combat System). Ethan delicately held the ebony, pump-action shotgun, a smile playing across his muzzle. The dragon had actually unlocked this weapon first, being a shotgun lover first and an AK lover second. The dragon just found the idea of firing multiple projectiles with a single pull of the trigger enticing. Well, that, and the fact that shotguns were more versatile than the average person knew. With variable munitions, multiple configurations, and ease of operation and maintenance, the R870MCS was easily Ethan's weapon of choice on any battlefield. He had _also_ unlocked all of the weapon's attachments and upgrades. This of course meant that the dragon had spent none of his allocated level-up points towards training, but since he already knew a good amount of what was to be taught that was applicable to his play style, the only thing he missed out on was utilizing kill-streak rewards and other equipment outside of standard issue gear.

As brackets surrounded nearly every point on the R870MCS, he had to move quickly to select his attachments and modifications before the match began. He first equipped the weapon with a magazine for quicker reloading, then added a rather large suppressor that slipped over a good portion of the barrel and into the underbarrel tube magazine as well. A screen tap later, and the pump was equipped with a pistol grip. Lastly, he added solid slugs to his ammunition supplies, which allowed him to engage at a distance if the situation called for it, and a reflector sight to assist aiming.

Ethan looked up to see the match countdown timer slowly tick away. It was a "battle" between the United Fichinese Emirates and the Zonessian Ultranationalist Liberation Union, the dragon being placed in allegiance with the former. At the top of each roster was a "CO," the highest-ranking player commanding the armies. His was a fellow named "Lt. Gen. Wilhelm" while the other was a "Col. Vasquez". It was a fully loaded match, one-hundred players on both sides. Ethan slowly smiled. He was much better at these larger matches, where it was much easier to slip around unnoticed. It might end up that he made it through the entire match without dying in these dark maps.

"Alright, guys get ready," this Wilhelm person called out. "You know your play style, you know your builds, you know your roles. All intel experts sound off." As names and ranks rang out from the team-wide channel, he continued, "Keep me posted on enemy activity. Snipers, I hope you've equipped thermal sights. Rushers, I hope you're good at what you're doing. Any mortar experts here? Well, you're in the wrong place. Grab a different weapon. There'll be too much proximity to the enemy most of the time. Same goes for explosive experts and demomen out there."

The thirty-down for the match was underway. The battle scene surrounding him faded away into blackness, replaced by a factory gray hangar filled with transport helicopters, fighter jets, and Zodiac motor rafts, which were positioned at the slowly opening doors. The grated floor beneath glowed an angry red from the components below, bathing Ethan in its pallor. He made his way to one of the Zodiacs as other players on his team appeared in the hangar, doing the same and manning their own rafts. Four others clambered into his boat, one of them staying behind, ready to push. The hangar doors slid open all the way as the carrier they were on tilted forward into a dark swamp, filling the interior slightly.

"Alright, the match's on!" Wilhelm chattered over the radio. "Go, go, go!"

The lizard at the back pushed the raft into the water, leaping in after them as he did so. Their Zodiac churned through the swamp with the others right beside it.

"Alright guys, keep it loose," Wilhelm ordered. "Don't bunch up and watch the tall grass. Snipers, grab someone to keep watch. Everyone else, do what you do best."

"And this is where I get off," Ethan spoke to the others in his raft. "Don't follow." Before even giving the lizard manning the motor a chance to slow down, the dragon leaned backwards and fell into the murky waters.

The dragon emerged from the knee-high slop soon after, making sure to cover himself in mud. If someone shone a light in his direction, his green fur would have given away quicker than if he were covered in the gunk. Ethan kept low, his head barely above the waterline as he made his way after his team with his suppressed R870MCS held just above the surface. Gunfire and mixed shouts already rose above the din of swamp wildlife.

As Ethan neared the battlefield, he began to cling to the tall grass. This tactic was a two-way street, though. He could easily surprise an enemy as an enemy could surprise him. He kept his antenna-like ears up and open, twisting to the side almost radar-like.

The dragon barely flinched as bullets zipped past him at times. It was all just a simple competition. A game. No matter how close the game developers brought things to reality, no matter how lifelike the jarring in his bones from the sudden explosions around him, no matter the realistic spray of blood, bone, tissue, and cerebrospinal fluid that resulted from his first headshot of the game with the R870MCS, that would be all it ever meant to him. He expressed no shock or fright as soldiers fell around him. He didn't bat an eyelid as the idiotic croc in front of him failed to notice the link mine mounted on a tree and was blown in half, his intestines exposed. Even dying didn't matter much to him; all it meant was the annoyance of having to cover himself in mud again. The only things that mattered right now were the keeping his kills high, keeping his deaths low, keeping out of sight, and keeping his team in the lead.

Sadly, his idiotic teammates weren't thinking the same way and were repeatedly throwing corpses at the enemy, walking into ambushes they died to just seconds before. Ethan only breathed out a stressful sigh, flanked the dug-in enemy troops, and dispatched them with a level head and steady aim. Idiotic teammates- the bane of all multiplayer games. _Well,_ the green-furred dragon thought, _chatty ones, too. Goddamn those smack-talkers._

So it continued throughout the rest of the session and the rest of the matches. Kill, die, respawn. Rinse, lather, and repeat. The only variety came from the maps, the players, and the tactics. Still, Ethan found the game quite entertaining, and he often got a little too carried away. He would sometimes yell his head off at his "shit-for-brains" teammates, with responses varying from dirty looks to full-blown arguments. Other times, his team was losing so badly and he was dying so often that he simply lost it and dashed at the enemy head-on, eyes slit-like and teeth bared in a snarl in a fit of feral rage. While in this primal state, he would sometimes beat an enemy with the stock of his weapon a whole minute after he died, reducing the corpse's face to an unrecognizable mess of gashes and swollen flesh. The simulated pain of being shot (obviously toned down from what it would be like in reality) went unnoticed and he would continue the onslaught against other players until he was brought down.

But aside from these occasional variations, so it continued throughout the rest of the session. Kill, die, respawn. Rinse, lather, and repeat.

* * *

A few hours later, Ethan and Alex shut off the VR and pulled off their gaming wear. The dragon cracked his neck and sighed, shifting his jaw around.

"How did you do?" the golden eagle inquired. "Get some good kills?"

"Lost ten games, won six," he replied. "Got some nice kills, but I also got some unbelievably ridiculous deaths. I was killed by a grenade in Nighttime Swamp from a teammate when our CO specifically said to lay off of the explosives, for instance. And I met this really annoying guy, uh, Hawkins something or the other. At least I managed to level up and purchased a few extra things for my AKS. You?"

"Good overall, but there was this really laggy game on Mountaintop that really frustrated me," Alex answered. "I literally had to resort to using only my P-90. I couldn't snipe at all on that match. Oh, there was this great kill I got on Nighttime Desert. Our team manages to call in a Predator drone with a thermal scan, right? And wouldn't you know that a guy's coming up right behind me? So I'm like, 'Ah, shit, this isn't gonna end well…' The guy ends up walking right past me, and I have enough time to line up a great headshot on him. Thank goodness for adaptive ghillie suits, right?"

"Heh, yeah," Ethan couldn't help but crack a smile and chuckle softly. "Had a hilarious kill where I was trying to take out these entrenched machine gunners with a grenade. Let me just say that I completely missed with my throw by around twenty feet or so. Some random guy just happens to walk forward…and gets killed by it as it detonates. The best part was that he was priming his own grenade, which rolls towards the MG nest…and kills them. I didn't get any points for that, but that was by far the luckiest thing that happened to me today."

"Pffffff, hah, hah, hah!" Alex laughed. "I can almost see that happening…"

"Great, huh?" the dragon smirked, glancing at the clock on the kitchen microwave not too far away. "Uh, it's five now. I think I'd better be heading back home, alright?"

"Okay, okay," he nodded as he followed Ethan to the door, "I guess I'll see you later, then. Oh, hold on. Really quickly, how's _Rise of the Legion _coming along?"

"I've just started on the next chapter. Didn't really get a chance to work on it that much this week. I'll…hopefully have it sent to you after maybe two, three more weeks for editing, alright? So anyways, how's the one I sent you?"

"Ah, let's see…," Alex paused to bring up his own holocomputer and displayed the private message he received. "Well…To tell you the truth, Ethan, I'm not sure I know what to tell you about this one. I mean, not that I think the fight scene between Tarkov and Dark was a bad idea, it's just that…Well, I'm not that experienced enough to tell you where to go or what to do."

"Hey, that's fine," Ethan reassured him. "I mean, I'm just happy you even agreed to do this whole editing thing for me."

"Sorry I can't be of much use here," the avian frowned, shaking his head as he closed the screen.

"Don't apologize, it's okay! Seriously. I still appreciate- _really_ appreciate what you've done for me."

"Alright. Well, at any rate, I like the little ending segment. So the Lylatians are gonna use Dark for their own purposes, eh?"

"Heh, you may be my editor, but I can't tell you everything," Ethan grinned. "You'll find out later when I send the part over to you."

"Yeah, that's fine. Get any new readers?"

"Mmmm, not really," Ethan shook his head as he began to slip his shoes back on, the shoestrings already tied so he could just step into them. "Y'know, same old, same old."

Alex sighed and raised his eyebrows for a moment, "Yeah, I get how you feel. Well. I guess I'll be seeing you."

"Yeah, same," the dragon smiled as he opened the door. "Take care, and thanks for inviting me over."

"Thanks for coming over," the avian replied, matching his smile. "Say bye, Rusty!"

The mechanical hound hopped up onto two legs and waved good-bye with its front left paw.

"See you both soon!" Ethan waved as he slipped outside. "And tell your parents I said hi!"

* * *

Following a short flight home, Ethan entered the side door to his house and found both his parents watching TV in the living room. Short greetings were exchanged before the dragon slipped back upstairs to his room, taking a quick shower (a cold one, of course), eating a quick dinner of leftover curry from yesterday downstairs, and heading back up for more work on _Rise of the Legion_ on his holocomputer.

A few minutes into typing, Dad came up and spoke, "I hope you're not playing or typing your story."

"No, dad," the dragon flat-out lied with a straight face, closing the one-way window and pretending to check the school staff pages for homework updates.

"Good, because you've already played way too much today," the arctic fox nodded slowly. "I want you to study for the rest of the night and head to bed early for school tomorrow. Understood?"

"Yes, dad," Ethan nodded, pausing to look at him.

After Dad left…the dragon resumed typing for a little more before heading to his favorite online forums as he pleased. Time flew by as he played a few online games and chatted a bit on the forums before he checked the time- 10:00, his bedtime.

So he headed across the house to his parents' bedroom…

…bid them a good night…

…headed back to his room…

…shut all the doors…

…turned off the light…

…and continued to play and chat for four more hours. After the rest of his friends at the forums fell asleep, he shut off the holocomputer and removed the projector from his hand. From there, he slipped into bed, snuggling with his favorite stuffed foxy and kitty.

"Mmmm…you two are so cute and lovable, you know that?" he chuckled quietly before slowly drifting off, sighing before doing so in anticipation of his _favorite_ day of the week…

_Hmph…as if,_ he rolled his eyes with the thought before closing them.

* * *

**Bonus Content_**

_Ethan Pham's Theme- How to Save a Life, source: The Fray_

_Alex Trivedi's Theme- Dead or Alive, source: Bon Jovi_

* * *

Author's Notes- Hey again. Been a while since I last updated, hasn't it. Well, reason being, this chapter was one of the few one's I've spent half the time it's been in development trying to rework it.

Anyways…something new here. What? Adder's developing his characters? OMFG, right? Yes, yes, I know character development isn't my strongest point, but I try. Anyways, this is pretty much a chapter dedicated to developing Ethan and Alex (more so of the former). This story is going to be starting off a little slow since the plot's going to take a bit of time to develop, but I hope you guys found this chapter at least somewhat interesting.


	3. Chapter 2: SSDD

Author's Notes- Adder McBannon here again with the second chapter of _Empty Void_! Yeah, I know it's been three months since the last one. It feels so good to finally finish this chapter, as I've literally written it up and torn it down a total of...six times, I think? Anyways, this chapter is sort of an experiment for me. I'm trying out some new techniques I've seen employed or suggested elsewhere, including biasing the narrative. Mind you, this chapter is meant to be more informative of the story's timeline and current events in said timeline. In any case, I hope you find this installment interesting. Enjoy. ~Adder McBannon

* * *

"_School- can't live with it, can't live without it." ~Ethan Pham_

Chapter 2

S.S.D.D.

**November 12, 1776**

**6:39AM, Local Time**

**Culver Lake, Corneria_**

Ethan slowly descended in a glide for the Culver Lake High School soccer field, making minute adjustments to prevent landing on the fence. Being no avian or bat (obviously), the dragon required a wingspan of at least twenty-six feet in order to fly, which made the wide-open field the only viable landing site where he _wouldn't_ dent/scratch/crush/GRAAH anything. He touched down, decelerating in a slow trot as he absorbed his ice wings back into his body. Daylight Savings was still a few weeks away, so it was still relatively dark. The field was still wet with moisture, and Ethan drew the crisp, cool air in with a deep breath.

And then he ran for school.

The green-furred dragon didn't know why he enjoyed running so much. Perhaps it was because of the rush of energy that came with the added speed and elevated heart rate. Perhaps it was he savored feeling more of that chilling breeze. In any case, the dragon dropped down low as he neared the fence, sinewy ice tendrils slithering around his legs before he sprung up clean over it, landing in a crouch and continuing his early morning sprint for class. If anything, Ethan prided himself for his imagination, especially since it tied in well with his abilities. "Ice muscles," as he called them, were just one of his specialties.

Ethan continued through the parking lot and into the vast, multi-building school campus with its whitewashed walls and dark-tinted windows. A gothic-style tower rose up from one of the far buildings, looming over the campus like a watchman. The campus resembled less of a school and more of a prison facility in his eyes. He leaped up a short flight of four steps under his own ability zipping past a few other people who also had zero-period classes. The dragon trotted to a halt as he reached the furthest building and slipped through the doorway by simply opening it partially with his hands, then using his foot to swing it open for him just enough so that it didn't catch his long, prehensile tail.

It was only as the dragon began skipping stairs up the double flights to his AP English 4 class that he felt a noticeable burning in his leg, his calves crying out for oxygen. He reached the top and exhaled loudly as he walked the rest of the way to class.

English, English, English… Truthfully, Ethan absolutely loved writing- his stories were proof enough. Also truthful was the fact that he _hated_ writing on-demand, and particularly for school.

The same went for reading. For enjoyment?

No problem.

For an assignment, including having to pick each paragraph apart piece-by-piece?

Hell no.

Just…_hell_ no.

Sure, he would do it. Sure, he would do his best with it, but there was no way he could bring himself to enjoy it if he had to worry about reading between the lines for school rather than doing it for leisure.

At the very least, the class was relatively easy. Mrs. Harper was quite lenient and easygoing. The only actual assignments were the almost bi-weekly essays, and the only tests were the midterms and the finals. Of course, that meant that there were few points to go around on the flip side. A single bad grade could ruin it for the whole quarter, so diligence and initiative were key in passing the class.

Not exactly Ethan's strongest points, but he somehow managed to breeze through with an 'A' so far.

Today was an easy day, thankfully- the dragon needed to ease himself into the atrocity that is Monday morning. Just easy, silent, sustained reading for a whole fifty-three minutes of class. Ethan rummaged around in his overstuffed backpack- Why was his backpack always so goddamn heavy? He could have sworn that the upper-classmen would have received locker priority while the school was being renovated, but that was clearly not the case. Leave it to the stupid staff's poor planning to have a whole locker wing worked on _during_ the school year rather than during summer vacation.

…Perhaps he should have simply focused on getting the book out. The dragon, with some difficulty, yanked out a small, hardcover edition of Aldous Huxley's _Brave New World_ from the compacted confines of his backpack. He actually read the book two years before for his World History unit when the school library, local library, and nearby bookstore happened to run out of the outside reading books and his teacher generously allowed him to read it. He found he was enjoying the book quite a bit (Why did it seem like he always enjoyed the books everyone else hated?), more so for its scientific ideas and philosophies rather than the characters or the actions. The only thing he disliked was the occasional graffiti on the pages running along the lines of "This book sux!" or "lol, smex?". Honestly, did these ignoramuses have to take the time to write those down just to ruin it for the others who actually enjoyed the book? Had the writing not been in pen, Ethan would have delighted himself in ridding the pages of such blasphemy.

The bell signaled the half-hour tutorial break with its high-pitched beep, which greatly reminded the dragon of the censorship bleeps meant to obscure profanity on television and radio. Ethan stuffed his book back into the bulging backpack and headed downstairs, bypassing the steps completely and simply jumping down to the landing when the way was clear of any other students. He exited the building and headed for the nearby quad area in a quick jog, slipping past others in his way with ease. He stopped by the far tree, the designated meeting place for his friend. It was with a hint of sadness that Ethan recalled that Alex went to a different school in the district, but he had come to accept that.

Garrion Edwards was a wyvern, similar to a dragon in being a hybrid of a fox and serpent but possessing almost no fur or hair at all. Instead, he was covered in brown scales, layered like the mail of knights of times long ago. He was dressed in a brown T-shirt and jeans, a green-red-yellow beanie topping his head. Though he was a little taller than Ethan and had a somewhat rugged face- greatly accented by the spiny ridges running along his brow and cheekbones- the intimidating visage clashed with the fact that Garrion was of a slightly wide gait. He wasn't fat per se, but one couldn't describe him as a skinny person either.

"Eyyyyz," he greeted in surprisingly light and quirky voice for his species, smiling and pulling off his earbuds.

"Hello, Garrion," Ethan greeted in turn with a nod and smile, letting his backpack plop down on the ground. "What's up?"

"Ah, you know," the brown-scaled wyvern shrugged. "Played the weekend away with Super Smash Bros. and whatnot."

"God, it's been _forever_ since I've touched that game," Ethan sighed and chuckled softly. "I must be terrible now."

"Yeah, you don't play enough, man!" Garrion laughed. "I mean, you could never beat me in the first place," He held out his hands in defense. "Not saying anything... You're probably rusty again, though."

"I know, I know," Ethan rolled his eyes. "I'll probably lose a ton of matches if I go online again."

"Nah, you're pretty good with Lupus. I mean, hardly anyone can recover from off the stage with him like you can."

"Maybe," the green-furred dragon shrugged. "So, anything else new?"

"Yep!" he nodded with a toothy grin, reaching into his comparatively smaller backpack and bringing out an old-fashioned glass soda bottle of…

"…Leninade?" Ethan stared.

"Drink, Comrade!" Garrion said in a very convincing Equatorial Zonessian (Russian) accent. "Drink! It's this or the gulag!"

Ethan couldn't help but chuckle, "What?!"

"Dude, it's what it says on the bottle!"

"May I see it?"

Garrion handed him the bottle, and he looked it over. The drink was a reddish-orange color and had various parodies of Soviet propaganda on it, including "Get Hammered and Sickled," "A Taste Worth Standing in Line For," and "With Georgia on my Mind". He ran through the ingredients, expecting to find another joke. He did. The last ingredient- "The Joy of the Workers!"

"Wowwwww," Ethan shook his head with a snicker. "Just, wowwwww."

"Totally awesome, right?" Garrion smirked, taking the bottle back.

"Heh, yeah!" he chuckled. "How's it taste?"

"Like watered-down Kool-Aid," the wyvern answered. "Now that I think about it, I really should have expected that."

"I know, right?" Ethan snickered. "Hey, do you know if we were supposed to bring out outside reading book in for Cornerian Government today?"

"Nah, Mister Murray said we were reading an article on Cerinia today," Garrion shook his head.

"Huh, that sounds interesting," Ethan nodded slightly. "Oh, that's right. We're moving into the colony unit this week."

"And next," Garrion added. "You know Murray, he loves the modern era. You know… all those articles, music quizzes, and all that shit."

"Well I, for one, like those," the green-furred dragon rebutted and placed a hand on his chest for emphasis. "Like studying the wars of this century and the last, too."

"You know, man, I bet that you scare people with all that stuff you know about weapons, wars, and shit," his wyvern friend chuckled with a smirk.

"I do," Ethan chuckled with him. "As you can tell-" he pretended to hold a pistol, eject the magazine, and speed-load a new one, "-I still do this."

"Hey, just don't do it around cops," Garrion jeered.

"…Ugh, don't remind me," Ethan palmed his face.

"Hey, you!" Garrion exclaimed in a burly voice. "Stop right there! Stand up straight, hands on your head!" He then did his best to imitate Ethan's voice. "Um, uh, what's going on, sir?" The wyvern pretended to do a frisk search of an invisible body in front of him, switching back to the burly voice. "Okay, you're clear, but why were you doing that?" Back to Ethan's voice. "I, uh, tend to reload imaginary guns sometimes…"

With his palm still over his face, the dragon shook his head and sighed, "Okay, I get it, I get it… You don't have to rub it in."

"Ahhh, you know I'm just joking with you," Garrion swatted the air with a sneer, the monotone, extended beep of the school bell setting off.

"Yeah, I know," Ethan let his hand fall, starting to walk away towards the tower building. "In any case, I'll see you in Government, okay?"

"Got it," the wyvern nodded, doing the same. "See you second period!"

Ethan broke into a run for his next class despite having seven minutes to get there as well as only a few dozen meters to travel. He slipped into the Academy of Performing Arts building (stupid renovation, putting my AP Calculus class in the APA building), using his foot to catch the door as it swung closed behind a passing student and flung it wide open. His math class was one of the few that had tiered seating, which he hated with a vengeance because it forced the ceiling lights to shine down at him at an awkward angle (He hated strange lighting situations, he just _hated_ them! They always caused him to tense up, oh why, why, why?).

Monday was lecture day as usual. Mrs. Woods, a lamb, usually never finished them and carried them over to next class (Block schedule always messed stuff up. All classes on Mondays and alternating classes for the rest of the week. Some kids got it lucky when their advanced classes were spaced two days apart, giving them more time to work. Ethan didn't exactly have that luxury.). When class began, they performed a few extra problems on the back of last night's homework- "warm-up" problems, as Mrs. Woods liked to call them- before handing them in.

Ethan took out his outline sheets for today's lecture, filling in term definitions and example problems as the lecture progressed. He jotted down notes quickly, abbreviating when possible and using what he called "text hand" where he removed the vowels when possible, as if texting with a cell phone (Not like he had one anyways. He lacked a portable music player as well, though his holocomputer might be counted as one.). His mind wasn't on the lecture, though he did jot everything down (Something about deriving the inverse square law? Maybe.). Rather, he was focusing occasionally on someone at the front row of the class, on the complete opposite side of the room of him.

Sharon.

Sharon was a female shorthair cat with alternating brown and black stripes and slightly curly blonde hair that went a few inches past her shoulders. She was dressed in a pair of tight, faded jeans and a green-colored tank top. Ethan found her extremely attractive. Perhaps it was her playfulness and her cheerfulness, or her amazing capacity for compassion (her status as student president of a community service club, one which Ethan was also secretary of, attested to that), or her looks, or all of that and other things he couldn't think about at the moment. Sharon was in every class with him last year, when they became friends, sort-of-friends. She was one of the first girls since elementary school that knew that he didn't like to talk much at first and respected that.

But he knew he couldn't really get much closer than "sort-of-friends". Sharon was courted (as he put it) by several other boys- boys that were certainly more attractive and more responsible and more diligent and more… just _more _than him. There were at least four others the she hugged every so often- Sharon only hugged him once before and it was more of a joke than anything else. Ethan nervously asked her twice in the past to head out to a school dance with her (the first times that he even considered going to a school dance), which she politely declined to go with her other friends instead. So he remained at home during those days. The dragon didn't know why he continued to long for her despite knowing all of this, but there was something…this…this empty _something_ that seemed to be filled up when he thought of her and flared wide open when he thought of not being more than a sort-of-friend to her.

So he kept on hoping, kept on chasing, kept on clinging onto the little quantum of solace that she maybe- just maybe- might eventually even hang out with him sometime or, or even hug him for real, or…or-

_Buuuuuuuuuuuuup!_ the bell beeped.

"Graah, god dammit…," the green-furred dragon muttered under his breath. Well…at least he finished his outline. He popped his pencil and papers back into his overstuffed binder and popped his overstuffed binder into his overburdened backpack and slipped on his overburdened backpack on before quickly dashing out of the classroom for Cornerian Government, period two.

At least Garrion would be there.

After a good dash, a small series of steps that he ascended with a single bound each, and a much longer stairway that he skipped up, Ethan broke through the door of Mister Murray's Cornerian Government class, seating himself. A few minutes passed as other students filed into their seats, Garrion sitting down next to him.

"Heh-hey!" greeted Murray, a rather young, gray-furred rat dressed in a sweatervest, speaking in a very jovial, relaxed tone. "How're you all? Good? Good? Good. Alright, today…_we_ will _begin_ with-"

"Gooooood morning, students!" the intercom blared. "This is Kristy Porter and Emily Diamond with your morning announcements!"

Murray slouched a little with the irritating interruption, the bi-daily announcements starting off with the Cornerian Pledge of Loyalty.

"_I pledge my oath of loyalty_

_To my Cornerian brothers and sisters,_

_Who work, play, and fight alongside me,_

_And to the government that ensures our success, our prosperity._

_To them I pledge my support, my companionship,_

_For to them I owe my livelihood, my freedoms._

_In the name of sacred solidarity, in the name of a brighter future,_

_I pledge to work, to protect, to endure._

_With my blood and sweat,_

_I pledge my oath of loyalty_

_To my Cornerian brothers and sisters."_

Too bad nobody bothered standing for the Pledge, more or less reciting it.

Following the announcements (yadda-yadda homecoming, yadda-yadda are you falling behind in your Algebra One or Geometry class?), Murray clasped his hands together and smiled, "Well, now that that's out of the way, today…_we_ will _begin_ with perhaps my favorite…subject…of the year!"

"Capital punishment?" a vulpine raised his hand.

"Haha!" the rodent laughed, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice, pointing at him with his thumb while he smiled wide at everyone else. "Isn't he just _killing_ you? No, Vo. We're beginning the colony unit! So first things first, I want you to take a look at this article and discuss afterwards."

A good number of the other students groaned in response, though Ethan, Garrion, and a few notable others accepted the handouts with piqued interest. The dragon balanced his head on his fist while he read the article…

_Colony Studies: Cerinia_

_Cerinia is the only life supporting planet of the Nakoli System, located only a light year from our own Lylat System. Official discovery of Cerinia is dated at August 19, 1593 during the explosion of the space exploration industry with the invention and perfection of the plasma core engine. Terraforming and colonization began the next month by Cornerian expeditions, followed by other developed planets including Zoness and Venom. The first established colony was the Cornerian-constructed city of Beacon._

_It was quickly discovered that Cerinia was bursting full of energy, quite literally. At hundreds of points on the surface, energy erupted from deep within the planet, sometimes ejecting as far as a hundred miles into the atmosphere and into space. If exposed directly to the energy, the effects are almost always lethal. That would explain that while Cerinia is capable of bearing life, there is no evidence of surviving fauna (though indigenous flora have thrived successfully). During the terraforming process, Lylatian scientists researched a method to contain this energy for safe colonization. Their invention, the planetary energy containment field, had to be reworked nine times before a safe, reliable system was developed. Beacon was the first to utilize such a device, though the need for annual replacement was not realized until the infamous Beacon Energy Leak of 1604, which ravaged half the colony and resulted in the deaths of some 25,000 inhabitants._

_Following the Colony Wars of the late 1600's, Cerinia fell under Cornerian jurisdiction with Beacon as the administrative capital. Though there was protest from non-Cornerian colonists, it was quickly quelled by either diplomacy or the crushing might of the Cornerian military. There are continued lawsuits against the forces of the Cornerian army as a result of the latter._

_Today, Cerinia is a colony at the cutting edge of science and technology. Their work resulted in the rapid boom of technology we Lylatians enjoy, such as hover plate technology, virtual reality, holographic technology, creation technology, nanotechnology, and (to the dismay of many) advances in weaponry. Regarding the last, leaps have been made over the course of a few decades from rotating bolt-action rifles to heavy and submachine guns, assault rifles, and even nuclear weapons (though the program was quickly, and many would say wisely, dismantled by Cornerian overseers). _

_Research is still underway to determine the likelihood of using Cerinia's planetary energy as an industrial power source, but current findings are inconclusive. It is well-known, however, that some who are exposed even for a day to the energy-rich atmosphere of Cerinia undergo a rapid mutation that gives them the ability to fully utilize their brainpower (It is determined that the average Lylatian utilizes an average of only five percent of his or her brainpower at any given time.). The effects of this rapid mutation are varied, though they always involve the slowing of the aging process. Some find themselves able to manipulate objects with their minds, while others can use this said "telepathy" for specialized purposes. This includes so-called "elemental unity," the ability to manipulate a specific "element" such as fire, ice, wind, earth, etc. through manipulation of particles in the air or ground. This also includes "physipathy," the labor-intensive ability to bend the very makeup of the universe to alter the laws of physics to one's whims. Whatever the case, this mutation is only successful a marginal percent of the time. Usually, the exposure to the energy-charged Cerinian atmosphere results in no effect whatsoever. These mutated Lylatians are highly sought for in the work forces and militaries of both developed and developing planets, and they are often overpaid. As such, Cerinia has become a hotspot for quick visits to determine whether one is mutation-positive. Research is underway to determine if there is a specific compatible gene that allows for this mutation to occur. _

"Alright, so are we all done?" Murray asked after a few more minutes. "Alriiiiiight… Now let's see how many of you pay attention to current events…What…is the leading political group on the colony of Cerinia?" Murray asked.

"That would be the Democratic-Republicans," Garrion piped up.

"And he scooooores! Correct as usual, Gary! And the next?"

"Their competitors, the Children of Liberty."

"Right again," Murray pointed at the wyvern with a happy grin. "Now, can someone tell me a bit about both parties?"

A female deer raised her hand and answered, "Both the Democratic-Republicans and the Children of Liberty claim to be following the will of Archangel Darius, a person still debated whether to be real or not. They seem to be opposing in every issue, the DR's being extremely conservative and the Children being extremely liberal. The DR's currently have the presidential seat under Xavik Katrella, while the Children have the representative majority in the Cerinian Senate."

"Said like a documentary narrator, Paige," Murray nodded, sitting down on top of an unoccupied desk. "Now-"

"Hey, Mister Murray, is Darius like some sort of Jesus figure or something?" the vulpine asked again.

"Uh…sure, I guess," the rodent slanted his eyebrows slightly. "Anyways, now I'll-"

"So Cerinia's being run by religious extremists or something?"

"We'll get to that later, Vo," Murray answered, slightly irritated. "Any-"

"Mister Murray-"

"Vo," Murray looked at the vulpine. "Shut _up_. Thank you. Anyways, now I'll take the reigns. Before we begin talking about the actual government of Cerinia, we should talk a bit about the history of the colony. As you know, Corneria pretty…much…screwed over Cerinia during the Colony Wars. We absolutely destroyed their military and…Whoa, getting ahead of myself here. Ahem, you guys should probably be taking notes right about now." Following the clatter of pencils and the flapping of paper, he continued, "Anywho, we'll take it from the top. Before the Colony Wars, Cerinia had only basic forms of government, even in Beacon where the population was around…let's say fifty-thousand about ten years before the Wars. Depending on whose sphere of influence you were in, you lived under Corneria's or Zonness' or Venom's laws. Think of Cerinia as a chopped-up protectorate at the time. Then we go to Colony War One, where we really begin to focus on things. About fifty years before the war, we begin to see an attempt at the forms of government we're typically accustomed to. This is mainly because a new political party forms in Beacon."

"The Children of Liberty," Garrion spoke up.

"Right," the gray-furred rodent nodded. "These guys wanted to prove to the Lylatian superpowers, a.k.a. us, Zoness, and Venom; that Cerinia could pull together and form an independent planet. It was unheard of at the time. I mean, remember now that Cerinia was pretty much a partitioned territory at the time. They proved all of us wrong, though- the Children of Liberty gained influence and united the entire planet under one constitutional government." He nodded a few times. "Yep. A constitutional government. A constitutional _communist_ government. Those evil bastards, right? Right? …Nah, I'm joking. I can see you guys cringing, I know it was a terrible joke."

He banged down on his desk to renew his students' attention. "Okay, moving on, Corneria, Zoness, and Venom didn't really like that at all. Well, not so much Zoness since they're communist too, but Corneria definitely _hated_ these Children of Liberty guys. What these three planets hated even more was that Cerinia was going to become independent. If that happened, it would be likely that Cerinia would put up protective trade tariffs in order to buffer its new economy. Of course, that would come at the expense of the superpower nations in that it would prevent them from getting pretty much free importation into Cerinia. So, as we all know, Colony War One broke out and the three superpower planets crushed Cerinia. Cerinia definitely put up a good fight, mutation-positive people and all, but they just couldn't stand up to the might of three militarily gigantic planets at once. Then there was Colony War Two in which the Children of Liberty made yet another uprising on Cerinia, this time joined by similar factions on the other colonies of Karkarus, Maadheim, Agg'ai, and Cyrium. Corneria and her hegemonic buddies beat them down too. And lastly, Colony War Three! Now Corneria and the _other_ developed planets fought for control over the colonies, along with their respective supporters on each colony itself! Ah…war and economics are two words that should never go together.

"Buuuut, I digress," he shrugged. "Now we move onto modern Cerinia. Alright, time check…" Murray looked at the clock behind him and frowned, "Hm, not much left. I'll breeze over the basics and we'll go more in-depth on…Tuesday? No, Wednesday, this is an even block period. Anywho, as we know from last unit, Colony War Three won Corneria full rights to Cerinia because we just clobbered the rest of them. As nationalistic pride lingered on, many revolts began to be made upon the new order soon after. So what did Corneria do?"

Ethan raised his hand. Murray nodded once and him and the dragon answered, "Didn't, uh, we…send in out…troops in and crush the protests? Oh, and didn't we dismantle the communist government?"

"Yes and yes," Murray nodded. "Following the dismantling, Corneria installed …mmmmmm… I guess you could call it a puppet government of sorts headed by a new party known as- wouldn't you guess?- the Democratic-Republicans. Since then, the DR's have constantly won the presidency, and it wasn't until ten years ago that the Children finally secured Senate majority. Now, with all the DR victories for the presidency, many members of the Children have cried foul and condemned the elections for being rigged. Are they _really _rigged? I don't know. What I _do_ know for sure is that the Children… are… _not_ happy about it. Still, most anger directed at the DR's and Corneria wasn't overtly publicized, and since the last public protest, Corneria pulled out its troops and reduced the size of their standing army." Promptly glancing at the clock and wincing as the dull beep of the bell set off, he clapped his hands and smiled, "Okay, class is about to wrap up here. Prepare for discussion on Wednesday by reading up on Davis, pages one-sixty-one to, uh…one-seventy-one. Ten pages, not a hard read. Just familiarize yourself with Cerinia's previous and current government, now you are excused!"

Ethan quickly packed up and slipped on his backpack, waving off Garrion before rushing out the door for his next class.

The rest of the school day proved uneventful. Next period was AP Environmental Science. It was certainly his favorite class, made more appealing to him by the fact that his AP Chemistry teacher from sophomore year, Mr. Ostrowski, was teaching it. Ethan certainly considered himself a science type of guy, leaning towards biology and environmental science as opposed to calculation-heavy chemistry and physics. It was just another lecture day with the old ursine still as sardonic and sarcastic as ever. At least Sharon was in the class, and they exchanged short greetings and farewells.

His last period of the day was reserved to Computer Graphics. After a long day of lectures and tests or whatever, Ethan found it nice to wind down with this his easygoing dolphin instructor, Mister Smith. The cetacean had this relaxing mood to him that encompassed the entire room, and Ethan rather enjoyed whipping out his holocomputer and quickly finishing up the day's task. The best part about the class was that everyone received an assignment sheet for the semester, the "BS Eliminator" as Mister Smith put it. All the assignments were down on paper, complete with due dates. All necessary information for completing said assignments was online at Smith's personal blog. Ethan liked having a class where everything that was needed was already laid down and he was free to complete assignments at his leisure with all that he needed at his fingertips.

And so school ended for him after that. Being a senior meant that he was only required to take five classes, and since he had a zero period, he could go home after lunch started following Computer Graphics. So Ethan dashed out through the door and out through the building. After getting enough clearance, the dragon formed ice muscles on his legs and leaped high into the air, forming a massive pair of frozen wings to soar back home.

Apparently, not only did the rest of the school day prove uneventful but the rest of it as well. Ethan arrived back home, took a quick shower while mentally managing how he should go about doing homework, and went at it afterwards…

…while playing browser-based video games and browsing the online forums on his holocomputer. He figured he could finish a good chunk of everything due tomorrow while playing the rest of the day away, and plus- he could always finish the rest (if there was anything left) during tutorial break after zero period. The best part? He just told his parents that he was receiving more online homework, and they bought it. Thanks to some clever "ghost browsing" and the one-way screen, his activities went unnoticed.

As the green-furred dragon browsed his e-mail inbox, a rather interesting news item on the sidebar caught his eye. Tapping the holographic screen to highlight the link, he was brought to a tiny news article.

_ALL CONTACT WITH CERINIA LOST_

_Edith Jacobs_

_November 12, 1776- Today at 10:17 EST, all contact with the Cornerian colony of Cerinia was lost. Officials have deemed that communications systems on both ends are working properly, and the latest satellite images revealed nothing out of the ordinary. _

_Nothing has been heard from the Cornerian ministers in the capital of Beacon._

_It is suspected that planetary energy interference is the cause, though the only plausible reason for such interference is through increased strain on planetary energy containment hubs across the planet and there are four years left for annual replacement to be considered necessary._

_More information will be revealed regarding the total communications blackout in the coming hours._

"Huh," Ethan murmured to himself aloud. "That's strange…"

* * *

The call button on his holocomputer wrist mount blinked rapidly.

"Audio only," he spoke in a crisp, sharp, almost venomous tone. "What is it, operative?"

"This is Songbird reporting," came the reply, a female- soft yet just as sharp as the male's. "We have a situation in Beacon.

"Explain."

Songbird whispered through the speaker, "President Xavik Katrella has been taken into custody by Children party members and all government buildings have been taken over.

"It's a coup."


	4. Chapter 3: Ripple Effect

Author's Notes- Hello, Adder here again. Yeah, I know it's been a while for only a few pages, but I suppose you can blame the AP exams, SAT Single Subject Tests, and all my teachers deciding to dump projects on us within a few days of one another (Even Photo. Not kidding).

Anyways, this is pretty much one of types of chapters I like to refer to as a BP installment (No, not the idiotic corporation who completely messed up in the Gulf of Mexico, it stands for "Bigger Picture"). In short, it's just an explanatory installment to address a few questions...and create a few more. I hope you find it at least worth your time reading. Until next time, this is Adder McBannon. Signing out.

* * *

"_Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedy." ~Earnest Benn_

Chapter 3

Ripple Effect

**November 13, 1776**

**Corneria City, Corneria**

**1:41 Local Time**

**One Day Since Last Events_**

Soraya was not happy. Not happy at all. "Take some time off," those brass bastards said. "You could use a month of relaxation."

And now the brass bastards were calling her back into office. After only a week- _a week_! If this whole communications blackout was just some malfunction or misunderstanding or some other bullshit, she would be taking time- and heads- off.

The female border collie carried herself with an even, determined stride into the Corneria City military complex, dressed in the elegant, red uniform that had become the iconic wear of high-ranking officials in the Cornerian military. The tassels of her golden epaulets hardly swayed with her regular steps. She approached the guardhouse, located in between a high, electrified chain-link fence and in front of a thirty-foot, gated wall. The canine didn't even so much as glance or acknowledge the sentry posts as they snapped to attention, raised the gate arm between the fences, and opened the gate beyond just a crack. She didn't even so much as salute them in return and left them standing there, still at attention.

If Soraya was a brand-spanking-new recruit like so many years ago, her eyes would've sparkled in awe at the half-cylinder barracks with the multitudes of troops that paraded the grounds. That was not the case, however, and her pale, gray eyes remained fixed on the only two-story building in the complex. The army fatigue-dressed troops halted to salute her- there were some in a Humvee that even braked and exited to do so.

Soraya walked on, leaving them standing, somewhat uncomfortable and perplexed in the light chill of autumn.

The light brown canine strode on into the officer's building, ignoring the men and women around her as they stood attention to her. She continued upstairs to the cubicle-lined intelligence department, where the men and women stationed there suddenly rose from their swivel chairs and computers to- surprise, surprise- salute her.

She slipped by a rather large bear as she headed for the room at the back, barking in a rather Equatorial Cornerian (British) accent, "Don't stand in the middle of the goddamn row! You'll only block traffic, you idiot!"

Soraya didn't even bother sticking around for the response before swinging the door to her office wide open to find three individuals already there. One was a female panther, the one to her side a male Doberman, and the third a female sparrow.

Soraya let the doors close behind her, eying the trio before walking around them to her desk, sitting down and motioning them to do the same. As they took their seats, she hissed, "Alright, I want a sitrep on this communication blackout deal."

"Still no sign of failure, technical or otherwise, ma'am," the sparrow answered. "Satellite images aren't relaying anything out of the ordinary as far as we're concerned."

The border collie glanced at the Doberman, "Heller, anything from South-Side?"

"Some, ma'am," he replied, biting his lip gently. "Interplanetary cell phone calls aren't getting anything on Cerinia. We also have reason to suspect that the communications blackout was intentional."

"A 'reason to suspect' isn't quite good enough," Soraya snapped. "Brenner?"

The panther shook her head, "No, ma'am."

Soraya exhaled a sharp sigh through her nostrils and looked down for a moment before facing the three, forming a steeple out of her hands and whispering, "Alright. Alright. So, it's been approximately…," she glanced at her wristwatch, "twenty-four-thirty hours since the communications blackout. Yes. And the best that we can come up with is that there is 'reason to suspect' that the Cerinians _might_ have caused it themselves. 'Reason to suspect'." As the three generals shifted slightly in their seats, she roared, "Do any of you see something _wrong_ with this picture?" The other three fidgeted a little as she slammed a fist down, "_Do you_?" She seethed with anger, her down-pointing finger striking the table. "We are the most out-fucking-standing military force in the Lylat System, and we can't get to the bottom of a simple issue like this in twenty-four-thirty hours! I want you to look on the ceiling and tell me what you see!"

The collie paused while they gazed upward, but she already knew what was there. Up on the ceiling was the flag of the Cornerian Military Forces- a phoenix soaring upwards with its head tilted towards the heavens, its wings spread wide open as it rose from the blackness leaving a wake of flames.

"Ladies and gentleman, we are the Rising Phoenix!" Soraya exclaimed, slamming her fist on her desk, causing the other generals to snap their attention back at her. "Not being able to get to the bottom of this comm blackout incident by now is an _insult_ to the name and the woman who was its namesake! I want results, people! I want cold, hard numbers, I want some detailed satellite footage- hell, even some random phone call would be-"

The collie froze in place as a string of rings filled the air. Maintaining her expression, she slowly turned her gaze toward the phone on her desk, as did the other generals.

"Speak of the devil," Soraya huffed, glancing at the caller ID. She raised an eyebrow at the fact that there was no display of any sort there. She hit the speaker button and spoke, "General Soraya speaking. Who is this?"

"Turn the speaker off," came a static-filled, garbled reply. Soraya recognized the distortion- a telephone voice changer.

Soraya slowly met the gaze of each one of her generals before replying, "I believe you're stepping your boundaries, whoever you are. Now, answer the question- who is this?"

"You're the one stepping boundaries, General. Turn...the speaker...off."

The canine scowled before switching it off and bringing the headset to her cheek, "Alright, now I want some answers here, you-"

"Vacate the room," the voice commanded.

Soraya paused for a moment, as if issuing the order, then said," Alright, it's done. Now-"

"General. You aren't vacating the room. I'm starting to lose patience as I'm sure you are as well."

Soraya narrowed her eyes, turning to glance at the window behind her. Only the drilling grounds greeted her, the troops still standing attention.

"Dismissed," she told her seated generals, still looking for anything out of the ordinary. "Dismissed!" They rose and quickly exited the room.

The moment the doors clicked shut, the warped voice ordered, "Deactivate the wiretap. For real, general. No fooling around."

Soraya, still gazing outside, unplugged a cord from the phone. "Are you finished?"

"Since your walls are soundproofed...yes, it will do, gen-"

"Then answer my question," the collie snapped.

"...You may address me as 'Verruckt'," the phone hissed. "And don't even think about it, general."

Soraya's hand, formerly reaching for the wiretap, held still and slowly retracted. "So which one of my women or men are you...?" she asked, glancing at the troops below. Not a single one moved, and they all had their backs turned toward her.

"None, I can tell you that much. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you may address me as 'Verruckt'. I am the Director of an organization known as the Sleight of Hand. We simply deal with maintaining balance in the Lylat and Nakoli Systems- a balance which is starting to tip, general."

_Spooks,_ Soraya sighed. _Wonderful_.

"I suspect this has something to do with the Cerinian comm blackout," she huffed.

"You suspect correctly," Verruckt answered. "It is as your General Heller suspects. The blackout was intentionally caused by the Cerinians."

"And to what end?"

"To cover a coup."

Soraya closed her eyes and sighed sharply through her nostrils, easing back into her seat. "...How can I trust you." The question came out as a statement.

"You will have to," Verruckt responded. "If you don't, well...then getting your break cut short will be the least of your worries, general."

The canine's eyes flashed open, narrowed. "How much do you know, Verruckt?"

"More than you will ever come to grasp, general."

Soraya paused for a bit before asking, "How bad is the situation?"

"All government buildings in Beacon have been seized by armed party members of the Children of Liberty-"

"Goddamn those _Children_...," the brown-furred canine scowled. "Always them! Every single goddamn time!"

"I'd rather you not interrupt me again, general," the phone hissed. "Or can I expect such behavior from the best the Rising Phoenix has to offer?"

Soraya suppressed a growl as she spat, "Continue."

"The Children also have the presidential family in custody in their manor. No injuries nor deaths have been sustained, however. It is a bloodless coup."

"Goddamn it," Soraya growled. "So why the hell are you telling me about this when it's clearly a political issue?"

"Same reason why you sought a military career instead of a political one," Verruckt answered. "Politicians can talk and demand, but military figures like yourself can take action. That is, take action if need be. If you recall the...intimate...history between Corneria and Cerinia, you'll probably be aware that the Children of Liberty aren't exactly on friendly terms with you. Then again, all you need to recall is that you've shot some of their supporters yourself."

Soraya huffed in response, "Then you need me to prepare troops for combat."

"You follow well, general," the phone crackled. "The Cornerian Military Forces, or the Phoenix's Brood as it is so affectionately called, has shrunk its standing army to nearly nothing as a result of the current peacetime."

"So you're saying we should make a peacetime draft?" the border collie asked, narrowing her eyes. "The last time we issued one was during the Second Colony War, and it was widely unpopular. We almost had to wage a war on six fronts, one being at home with our own population."

"By the time the coup is broadcast to the entire Lylat System- which I'm sure is soon, general- it won't _be_ a peacetime draft," Verruckt assured her. "Your politicians will try to work something out with the new government, but it is likely that with your large market stakes in Cerinia...you won't take kindly to them nationalizing..." the voice paused, coughing in correction, "or 'planetarizing' your industries there."

Soraya leaned back in her chair, massaging between her eyes as she scowled, "I suspect you will be acting as an informant."

"Indeed I will, and am," Verruckt answered. "The Sleight of Hand is a non-interventionist organization, however. We shall not directly enter combat...unless the situation cannot be handled any other way. Instead, we shall act as your roving eyes and ears. We'll keep in touch for the rest of your life, General Soraya. And do remember that all of this is strictly confidential. Utter anything about what we discussed or anything regarding the Sleight of Hand, and you shall be wiped clean from this dimension. However, I must congratulate you, general. You are the first outsider to learn of our existence without being dead or recruited afterward."

"Hooray for me," the canine scoffed sourly. "How will I contact you?"

"You won't," the phone crackled. "If any information is necessary to disclose to you, _we _will contact _you_. Until next time, prepare all units. Good day, general."

And then the line closed with a clack, followed by the monotone drone after. Soraya set the phone back down on its console and propped up her head with her hand against her forehead. She then stood and began walking briskly, sweeping the door wide-open.

"Who was it?" Brenner inquired, leaning against the wall just on the other side.

"Classified," Soraya returned quickly. "Alert the recruitment offices- we may be needing more troops should this turn out to be an uprising of some sort." She cringed slightly, unnoticed. First time in the military that she had to withhold any sort of intelligence from anyone.

"Yes, general," the panther nodded, walking away.

"Heller, contact South-Side and keep our forces on standby," the canine motioned toward the Doberman.

"Yes, general," he nodded, quickly heading off.

"Jana, you handle the forces here."

"Understood, general," the sparrow saluted and strode away.

Soraya exited the officer's building and back out into the training grounds, where everyone- the gate sentries, the trainees, even the officers behind her- was still standing attention, most of them fidgeting, perspiring, twitching, or shifting in some manner.

"At ease, at ease, at ease!" she snapped as she continued towards the Strategic Military Command compound, grumbling to herself of the idiocy of her situation. "Goddamn buffoons..."

* * *

**Same Date**

**Interstellar Television**

**Directly After Previous Events_**

The screen flickered, deviating from the current channel to display the face of a gray and black-furred lynx standing in front of a white screen.

"Greetings, Lylatians and Nakolians," he spoke in a commanding, booming voice, delivering his words at a slow, deliberate pace. "I am Imahl Zimmerman of the new Republic of Cerinia. I speak now to inform the United Kingdom of Corneria that your puppet government is no more." The screen changed to display armored gunmen surrounding the castle-like capitol building. "We have seized your administration..." It then flickered to bring up a camera feed showing a suited, blue-furred vulpine surrounded by similar gunmen, "we have taken your 'President' Katrella into custody..." The view then shifted to a web page displaying a pair of rather large documents, "and we have sent to you our Declaration of Independence from the UKC and a copy of the new Cerinian constitution." The feed returned to the face of the dark feline. "In the past, the UKC butchered us when we first rallied and cried for freedom and independence.

"No more.

"I am the face of the new Cerinian Republic- a republic that we created all our own, and that we created without a single life lost. As the first elected president of the Republic of Cerinia, I demand that we gain recognition as a sovereign, independent people and governmental body and planet by all planetary bodies in the Lylat System and for the release of all Cerinian political prisoners. Should you all comply, you need not worry about any act of aggression from us. We shall freely release the former 'president' and all others who wish to return to the Lylat System. Should you refuse and wish to force us under your tyranny once more, we shall respond in kind with military action assisted by our supporters in the Intelligent Military Designs corporation. Never again shall a foreign power deny us independence! Never! And if we are to perish at Cornerian hands, then let us see how kindly others will take it."

As the video ended, Ethan was left staring at the screen as the original program began to play as normal.

"Graah...god damn...," he growled.


	5. Chapter 4: Call of Duty

Author's Notes- Hello, been a while. Had a major case of writer's block putting together what is actually my second shortest installment ever behind chapter 2 of the original _Star Fox: Contact_. Wow...summer's almost halfway over and all I put together was seven pages? I'm a little disappointed at myself, considering I made seventy-five pages' worth of progress on _Rise of the Echelon_ last summer.

Anyways, I really tried hard to bring out the emotion in this chapter. I don't know whether it worked or not, but please feel free to comment on how I did and don't hold anything back when you do so. Until next time ~Adder

* * *

"_Pressed into service means pressed out of shape." ~Robert Frost_

Chapter 4

Call of Duty

**November 17, 1776**

**Culver Lake, Corneria**

**1:42 PM Local Time**

**Four Days Since Last Events_**

Everything's gonna be alright. Nothing's going to happen. No when, no want, no worry.

"Sure, Ethan," the green-furred dragon murmured sarcastically to himself, palming his face and slowly dragging his hand down. "Just keep thinking that."

He saw the news. He read the headlines. He knew what was coming. He didn't like to think about it, but no matter what, the imminent conscription kept popping into his head, slithering past his concrete defenses and poisoning his thoughts with darkness. It seemed inescapable. Ever since he was young, Ethan knew the implications of being mutation-positive and living on a heavily militarized planet. Mutation-positives were almost always the first ones to get drafted in a conflict. Even if one tried to escape the draft through fleeing to a different territory, one would likely be chased down by War Department officials and _forcefully_ conscripted- usually with additional punishment. Crippling oneself was a less-than-ideal idea as well, since all those who are severely injured following their conscription notice will be immediately placed on probation if not tried in court provided sufficient evidence exists. In essence, there were only two real ways to avoid the draft- get lucky or die.

And Ethan knew better than to push his luck, and he was sure as hell that he didn't want to die.

It had been two days since the "cautionary draft" began, and during those two days that fact never stopped buzzing around his head. He woke up with it, ate with it, played with it, studied with it, ran with it, flew with it, washed with it, slept with it.

Ethan pushed himself out of his chair into a stiff, standing position with a light murmur. He had to take his mind off of things. He slipped downstairs, keys in hand. He paused towards the end of the last flight and eyed his father, who was seated in his office with a dour expression. Ethan sighed sharply through his nostrils. The impending draft troubled him enough. To know that his father was troubled burned deeper.

"I'm going for a walk now...alright?" he asked quietly.

Dad simply turned to face him and nodded lightly in response, biting his lip lightly.

Ethan quickly slipped outside, breathing deeply. It was good to get away, even for the moment. It was quite warm for November weather, and it was uncomfortably hot for Ethan. He formed a thin, transparent layer of ice- a sort of "ice armor"- over his body to cool down as he began to walk, and think. The renewed coolness brought by the ice felt comforting.

But not comforting enough to relieve him of the anxiety.

His thoughts didn't drift too far from the draft for long.

Ethan sighed as he soon fell into a clockwork stride- left, right, left, right, tick, tock, tick, tock. Time. He didn't have much time until he was dra-

"Graah, dammit!" the dragon growled.

It's okay. Just think of something else.

Sky. Big, blue sky with puffy clouds. Puffy clouds like smoke. Smoke from booming artillery pieces, gun muzzles, explo-

Keep thinking. Something else...else.

Ground. Er, sidewalk. Sidewalk made out of concrete. Concrete. Firm. Unchanging. Unchanging like war.

…

Kittens.

Soft...fluffy...cute...kittens.

...

It had to come to that level of stupidity, but at least it worked. It was then that Ethan remembered a very important quote- _If it's stupid and it works, it isn't stupid. _Where did he hear that from again? Oh, right- Murphy's Laws of Modern Combat.

…

Murphy's Laws.

…

Of Modern Combat.

"God dammit," Ethan sighed out a cloud of cool mist, palming his face with a light crinkle.

Well, if thoughts of conscription and war wouldn't get out of his head, he should as well embrace them. When he got drafted... No, no, no- if, _if_ he got drafted, what weapons would he be assigned, if they didn't recognize his skill with the shotgun? Cornerian Military standard-issue was the Firebird Industries CZ-36 compact assault rifle. The CZ was of a bullpup model, meaning its firing components were built into the stock rather than as an extension of it, shortening the weapon's overall length. Select-fire semi-automatic, three-round-burst, or fully automatic. Cartridge is the unique 6.27 x 25 millimeter APAA, or Anti-Personnel-Anti-Armor round. Magazine capacity is thirty rounds. Though more expensive to produce than the former standard-issue rifle, the M4A3, it boasted increased durability and functionality in addition to the key trait of being easier to maintain. Mind the learning curve to handle it, though.

The standard-issue sidearm would be the Firebird Industries recently-adopted UCP, acquired from the production firm Heckler and Koch. The "Ultimate Combat Pistol" was a double-action handgun. Unique 4.6 x 30 millimeter cartridge at a very high twenty-round magazine capacity. The 4.6 round possesses extremely high penetration ability, though its stopping power is wildly unpredictable as the round could either go straight through a body while remaining intact, shatter inside the body and thus cause massive internal damage, or turn while inside and also cause extensive damage to innards. "Double-tapping", or squeezing off two rounds in quick succession, was the preferred strategy to using the UCP.

The dragon then began to think of Warcry, that VR shooter. As realistic as it was- many players actually felt traumatized after playing the first few levels of the single-player mode- it could not simulate the pain of injury or the...the...whatever it was that happened in death.

And so Ethan walked, eyes locked in an endless stare with the concrete- concrete like war- walking and walking until he reached the doorstep of a house.

Alex's house.

The dragon hesitated for a few seconds, sighing sharply before giving a good knock on the door. Once again, the familiar growling and light scampering of feet from Rusty was audible from the other side. This time, a female golden eagle answered the door, heeling the mechanical hound with a sullen expression on her face.

"Hello, Misses Trivedi," the green-furred dragon smiled lightly. "Is Alex available? For-For a walk, I mean."

"Hello, Ethan," she answered. "Well, you see Al-"

"It's okay, mom," the dragon's companion spoke softly as he came down the stairs. "I'm up for it."

"Oh...alright...," Misses Trivedi sighed, nodding lightly and quickly taking her leave.

"...Worried?" Ethan asked quietly as she left and the avian began to slip his sandals on.

Alex took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and said, "We'll talk."

This time, Ethan couldn't help but notice the sorrow etched all over his face, mirroring his own. "Alright," he nodded. In a few seconds, the pair was off, heading for the lake of the city's namesake located only a few blocks away. "So...how are you doing?"

"Well, I've been better," Alex exhaled deeply.

"Yeah, I know what you mean...," the hybrid nodded slowly, a dull roar in his ears as tension began to build. "I'm...pretty much waiting for it now."

"You mean you haven't gotten it yet?" Alex met his gaze.

"No...not yet," Ethan bit his lip, heartbeat quickening.

"Oh," the brown-feathered avian spoke simply and softly, looking forward once more.

Ethan clenched his jaw for a moment, pressure building up on the back of his neck as he finally asked, "Is something wrong, Alex?"

The avian slowly met the dragon's gaze and nodded.

Ethan already knew the answer, but the words were already coming out of his mouth. "What...is it?"

Alex sighed sharply through his nostrils and answered, "I got the card, Ethan. I've got two days."

The dragon looked away, a heavy weight upon his heart. _Everything's gonna be alright. Nothing's going to happen. No when, no want, no worry._ Those comforting thoughts crumbled.

The war was real now. Yet it was not.

"I see...," Ethan whispered. He knew it was a lie. "You know...I think it's one of the greatest ironies that we love playing war games so much, yet we are both anti-war. I think that irony came back to bite me right just now." Even in the glorification of war through propaganda and in video games, he was well aware of the horrors of war. That one day when he was five years old, that one day where he turned on the TV expecting to see cartoons, that one day where he saw the first footage and images from the Karkarus Uprising was the day he lost his innocence. His tiny, perfect microcosm was shattered under the scope of the enormous, chaotic macrocosm. When he was five years old. He could still see the boy- armless and missing one leg- trying to hop to safety.

"I just hope it's over quick," the golden eagle sighed, staring blankly ahead in stupor.

Ethan nodded once more, sighing as well. This wasn't going to be anywhere near the relaxing, distracting walk he was hoping for. The pair made it to the lakeside walkway, the gentle waves of the liquid expanse lapping at the sandy shore. A light fog hung around the center of the lake, preventing them from seeing the other side. It didn't matter- this time, he wasn't looking at the lake in content; instead, he was soon lost in his own trance, eyes locked with the ground where he was going.

Where _was_ he going?

Cerinia? Just like Alex? Or remain here, his luck having finally shone? He didn't even know what to think or even what to feel now. Should he be grieved that this new conflict took his friend from him? Or, should he be relieved that it had spared him...so far? Part of him felt sick, felt that if anything _he _should've been the one who got drafted. Another part felt that at least he should be there for Alex, to be there when he needed him. Yet another wanted to stay behind where it was safe and he could resume a normal...er, well, _mostly_ normal life. It was like he was falling into pieces- glad, sad, mad- so many pieces. He didn't know what to think or what to feel. This might be the last time he would be able to see his friend alive, and he shuddered with the thought.

The rest of the walk was uneventful. There was little conversation between the two, the mechanical, monotonous left-right-left-right of walking taking over. The hour-and-a-half walk passed by as if it were only a few minutes. Before Ethan knew it, they were back at Alex's house, where they bid their quiet farewells and went their separate paths.

The dragon entered his house through the side-door and slowly absorbed his ice armor. Without so much of a glance at his parents, he began to head back upstairs to his room, this time taking one step at a time.

"Ethan?"

He looked down to see his father waiting in the office as if he hadn't moved from that spot the entire day. "Yes?"

"Did you check the mail?" he whispered, a light shakiness to his voice.

Ethan swallowed hard as he slowly descended to the floor, strode to the front door, grasped the lock. He unlatched and pulled the door open, sheathing himself in a layer of ice once more as he slowly walked to the mailbox, knowing his father's eyes were following him all the way. The world suddenly grew deathly quiet. It was just him, the mailbox, his staccato-like heartbeat.

He rested his fingers in the hook of the lid, steeling himself, exhaling sharply. He popped it open, let the panel fall. The dragon removed the bundle of mail, shut the mailbox up. He began to flip through the envelopes, the glossy, plastic advertisements as he headed back inside, absorbed his ice armor, shut the door behind him. He made his way to the kitchen, the awkward, uneven footsteps of his father trailing right behind him. A glance toward the couches told him his mother was staring as well, rising from her seat, leaving the television on.

Ethan finished flipping through, set the stack down on the kitchen counter, exhaled a heavy sigh.

"Nothing," he breathed out at last.

His father placed a weak hand on his shoulder, whispering grimly, "Let's hope it stays that way."

His mother breathed out a sigh of relief and picked her newly-arrived magazine up, heading back for her seat once again. His father slowly limped back for his office, Ethan heading back for the stairs.

Something slipped out of the magazine's pages and fell to the floor with a crisp, sharp clack.

Ethan's antenna-esque ears stood straight up, he paused.

And then the world went still, silent.

No movement, no sound save those from the television. The clack was still ringing in his ears. Ethan opened his mouth to plead his mother not to pick it up, but the envelope was already in the serpent's hands. The brief relief quickly collapsed.

Ethan could only watch as his mother closed her eyes, shuddered, hung her head as she handed it to him, uttered three, quiet words that shattered the silence: "It's for you."

He took the letter, turned around, headed back upstairs without a glance. He didn't want to see their eyes- their empty, solemn eyes. He retreated slowly, taking the steps one-by-one to his room, closed the door.

The dragon took a deep, shaky breath as he looked down. A letter from the UKC War Department, with the official seal. Addressed to Ethan Pham of 9839 Pivot Sound Drive, Culver Lake, 30129. It was for him- clearly, undeniably. He flipped the envelope over, formed a thin knife on his finger, slit the seal open. The neatly folded paper inside snapped open in his hands as he slowly read its contents:

_Selective Service System_

_ORDER TO REPORT FOR_

_ARMED FORCES PHYSICAL EXAMINATION_

_Local Board No. 13_

_Federal Building_

_318 Avian Ave._

_Corneria City, 00013_

_NOV 15 1776_

_(Date of Mailing)_

_Selective Service No._

_97 | 3 | 48 | 407 _

_To_

_Ethan Pham_

_9839 Pivot Sound Dr._

_Culver Lake, 30129_

_You are hereby directed to present yourself for Armed Forces Physical Examination by reporting at:_

_ASSEMBLY ROOM - 15TH FLOOR, FEDERAL BLDG. - 318 Avian Ave. Corneria City, 00013_

_on: NOV 19 1776 at 7 A.M._

_M. F. Shackleton_

_(Member, Executive Secretary, or clerk of Local Board)_

Sound slowly came back to him, like the roar of a crashing wave. The coming conflict was real. It was real because he was now a part of it. Yet at the same time, he didn't feel any different. The coming conflict was unreal. It was unreal because he could not wrap his head around it.

Real.

Unreal.

Is this a dream? Is this reality?

Reality is but a dream, as he liked to say sometimes. Each sleeper was just another god unknowing, a whole universe in his or her or its head.

Not right. It didn't feel right. His head hurt. Need to stop thinking.

Ethan tossed the letter away, even though he didn't read the "Important Notice" beneath, tore his eyes from it and stepped out. Out into reality. The new reality.

His father and mother were right outside, seated on the top of the stairs.

"How long?" his father asked, both turning to face him.

The green-furred dragon looked at his parents. They seemed...older, somehow. Almost deathly.

"Two days," he answered in a soft, pathetic voice. None of them moved or spoke for a long time.

"Well I guess you'll finally get to put all the useless time you put into those games to use," his father spoke curtly before descending down, down the stairs with his mother.

Not right. It didn't feel right.


End file.
